choking on your alibis
by meatballs in the impala
Summary: Jo wasn't the little girl she was back in Duluth anymore. Dean couldn't decide whether to be glad or disappointed. Dean/Jo. 5x02!deleted scene.


**status** complete  
><strong>prompts <strong>Season 5's _Good God Y'All_  
><strong>warnings<strong> spoilers  
><strong>pairings <strong>slight Dean/Jo  
><strong>background <strong>set after 5x02's ending  
><strong>notice<strong> I classify my writing as shallow. I think it lacks depth and meaning. I have ideas that could turn into great stories, but my writing skills kind of kill them. Anyway, this is my first attempt in the _Supernatural_ fandom. It didn't really turn out as I wanted it, though. Hope you like it! (Btw, _this_ doesn't mean I'm back for good.)

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><p><strong>CHOKING <em>ON <em>YOUR _ALIBIS_**

_"When God is gone and the devil takes hold, who will have mercy on your soul?"_

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><p>Dean watched the old pick-up truck as it drove down the small country road, taking his brother away from him once and for all. It was for the best, he reminded himself repeatedly. He didn't trust Sam anymore and he couldn't go about doing his job and worrying about Sam at the same time. If his little brother wanted out, then that was fine with him. It was the end of the world; Dean had far more important things to do than babysit Sam all the time.<p>

As cruel as it seemed to sound, Dean felt an odd sense of relaxation from the moment Sam had gotten up from that table. Being the older brother, Dean had spent all of his life watching over Sam and protecting him, instead of focusing on his job. When their father had died, he had told Dean to "_save Sam or kill him_" but, at the time, Dean couldn't decipher the meaning behind John's words. Then, Azazel had appeared once again, Sam had gotten killed by one of his minions, and Dean had sold his soul to the devil in order to bring him back.

He didn't regret saving Sam, As crappy as it had been down in the pit and as scarred as he'd come back, Dean still thought that he'd done the right thing. Protect Sam at all costs—that had been his motto and he didn't regret selling his soul, if that meant that Sam would be safe and sound. At the time, Dean could not imagine a world where his brother was not alive and by his side. But then, when he'd been pulled out from Hell by Castiel and saw just what his brother had been up to in the months of his absence, Dean began to wonder.

Had it truly been the right decision to revive Sam?

He hated the idea of Sam being condemned for eternity downstairs, but the thought just kept rushing into his head whenever he witnessed Sam doing his mojo.

He couldn't blame Sam for breaking the final seal—there was no way he could've known that killing Lilith would set Lucifer free. Even if he hadn't listened to Ruby, Dean was convinced that Sam would've gone after Lilith anyways, for the sole reason that she was holding Dean's contract.

But he couldn't hold Sam responsible for starting the Apocalypse. If anyone was to blame, that was Dean. He had broken the first seal and he was responsible for Hell on Earth. But then he kept thinking how, if he hadn't made that deal to save Sam and, thus, end up in Hell, the first seal would've never been broken and all of this would've never happened.

Dean shook his head. Together or not, Sam was still his baby brother and he had no second thoughts about saving him. Now, all he had to do was focus on finding a way to kill Lucifer before he wiped out the planet. Sam was a big boy, Dean concluded finally. He had made up his mind and took the way out. He could handle himself without Dean watching his back twenty-four-seven. Maybe it was better this way.

As caught up in his thoughts as he was, Dean only acknowledged Jo's presence when she was merely five feet away from him. When he looked up, she flashed him a guarded smile and slipped on the seat Sam had evacuated minutes ago.

"Rough day, huh?" Jo asked, gesturing at his worn out expression and catching him off-guard. Dean had half-expected her to sock him in the face—didn't _that_ bring back memories—for not calling, for making a deal, for dying, for coming back and _still_ not picking up the phone to call her—for anything, really. But Jo just sat there, watching him with no hint of resentment in her chocolate brown eyes.

"More like rough year," Dean corrected with half a smile.

Jo nodded, glancing around. "Sam?" she inquired, even though she already knew the answer to that question. He'd bet that she was hovering nearby, waiting for the moment he was along to sneak up on him. Not that she—or anyone, for that matter—could sneak up on Dean Winchester, but—_well_.

"Decided we'd take some time away from each other, see how that works," he answered offhandedly.

Jo raised a blonde eyebrow at his comment. In her memory, there was no Dean without Sam and vice versa. She had trouble picturing the two men being apart. "What happened? Did a girl get between you two or something?"

Dean had to laugh at that. "It's a long story."

"And you've no time for that, right?" Jo inquired with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I'm not an idiot, Dean. Hunters talk and you two are the hot gossip lately."

"Is that so?" His brow creased. "What do they say?"

She shrugged. "That all this has something to do with you. Word on the street is that you're doing business with angels. And," Jo paused, unsure of whether she should go on or not.

"And?" Dean prompted.

Her eyes shot up to his and he could see the worry in them. He supposed he should feel kind of flattered. "They say that Sam is changed. Whoever bumped on him before the Apocalypse say that he's different—_darker. _And that's the clean version of it."

Dean sighed in indignation and ran a hand though his hair. He was afraid that rumors had already started going around. "Don't believe everything you hear, Jo."

She raised her eyebrows. "Who said I believed any of that? I'm just relaying the message. But you need to be cautious, Dean. The rumors are spreading and it's best if you lay low and stay off the radar. A lot of people are keeping tabs on you, so don't do anything rash, okay?"

Dean grinned despite himself. "Crazy's my middle name, you know that, sweetheart."

Jo suppressed the urge to grin at the use of their old nickname for one another. "Unfortunately. Anyway, all I'm saying is try and keep it in your pants—for now, at least," she suggested.

"We started this, Jo," Dean suddenly admitted, tired of dancing around the subject with every hunter that he met in the last couple of months. "We can't sit around and do nothing, waiting for things to fix themselves. We set Lucifer on the loose and it's us who have to put him back on the leash."

"So, it _is_ true," she figured with a sigh. "I'm just telling you not to be reckless. I know you have trouble staying away from the action, but you'll be no good if you're dead, Dean."

He nodded curtly. "Don't worry 'bout me. I got it covered."

Her gaze bore into his, trying to find something in his eyes—something to assure her that he indeed had everything under control. "Why does that not make me worry any less? Listen, Dean, I…" She paused, unsure of how to approach the subject, or if she even should. "I heard about Hell."

Dean's shoulders stiffened and Jo took notice. "What about it?" he said, trying to sound casual.

"Bobby told me about your deal to save Sam and that you were down there for four months. What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry, Dean. If I had known, I would've—"

Dean cut her off. "No. I should be the one apologizing to you, Jo. I sold my soul to bring back Sam and I'd do it again if I had to. But I'm sorry that it took me two years to tell you that." His gaze dropped to his hands. "I should've called."

Jo smiled at his sincerity—something that she had spotted from the first time she'd met him—and covered his hands with her own. "But that has never been your greatest quality, right, sweetheart?" she asked playfully and Dean smiled. "I don't blame you, Dean. I spent too much time being mad at both of you, when I could've called you myself. Things might've been different if I'd known, but…" She looked up at him. "But that's all in the past. We've got Apocalypse on our hands now—we should focus on that."

Dean was dumbfounded by how much Jo had changed over the years. Last time he'd seen her, she was a girl playing hunter, who had a massive crush on him. She was so determined to follow in her father's footsteps, that she overlooked all the dangers of being a hunter. Now, she was a grown woman, capable of holding her own and facing the end of the world with her head tilted high. He realized that he respected Jo in a way he'd only felt towards a handful of people in his life. She was family, too—in some sort of twisted way. And, even though it pained him to admit it, at that moment, he trusted her more than Sam. "You've changed," he commented finally, after a long pause.

Jo laughed at his comment and Dean wondered if he'd screwed up yet again by letting his guard down. Seeing his walls begin to rise around him, she quickly said, "Two years is much longer than it sounds, Dean." Dean watched the way her tongue ran over her parted lips. "You know, Sam was right when he called me a schoolgirl in Duluth. I had walked away from home and pretended to be a badass hunter like you. I was trying to prove that I could be something more than just Ellen's daughter, the pretty blonde who serves beers at the Roadhouse."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "But I was wrong. Once you get out there, you realize how important home—_family_—really is. I was so caught up in trying to follow in my dad's footsteps that I didn't realize what I was leaving behind. So, I swallowed my pride, picked up my stuff and went back to the Roadhouse. Oddly enough, Mom finally understood my reasons—after giving me a full-blown lecture, of course—and we started hunting together." She shrugged. "I guess it was time I grew up. I mean, it's the end of the world, Lucifer is out there and we're fighting a battle we're probably not gonna get out alive from. What's more important than having your family close? I think I finally understand why you put Sam above everything else. It's because, when everything is said and done, family is the sole thing that's there. They're the only people you can really count on."

Dean nodded in acknowledgement, feeling oddly at peace with the knowledge that Jo shared his mind. Family was one of the main factors in his life and definitely the most important one, too. Seeing that Jo had finally realized the importance of it as well comforted him somehow. "You're a good hunter, Jo," he admitted, his thumb absently rubbing the skin of her hand. "It's good to have you on our side."

He didn't know what compelled him to say those words, but he knew, the moment they left his mouth, that he meant every single one of them. It was as though some invisible force was pushing him towards Jo mentally. Like he was sinking, drowning in an endless sea of regrets and mistakes, and she was his lifeline. Dean had never felt such a powerful need to hang onto something before. He had always been self-reliant, not depending on anyone for help, not even Sam. But now, when everything was going to Hell, he felt that he _needed _someone to pull him up when he fell. He was no superhero and he was so damn _tired._

Before either of them knew what was going on, Dean had cupped the back of Jo's neck with his palm and they were leaning towards each other simultaneously. Jo didn't move away from him—something that urged him to go on. They were barely a breath away when Ellen's voice—"Jo! We're hitting the road!"—echoing from a distance, made them freeze on their seats. They stared at each other for a long moment, before both broke out in laughter at their misfortune.

"Wrong place?" Jo asked, tilting her head slightly to the left.

"Wrong time," Dean agreed with a nod and traced his fingertips over her left cheek—a motion that had Jo closing her eyes momentarily and smiling—before withdrawing completely.

"I'm not going to tell you to call, Dean," Jo started and earned a knowing smirk from the Winchester across from her. "Because we both know that you won't. But I want you to take care of yourself. Wouldn't want to hear that they found you dead in a ditch in Oklahoma, you hear me?"

Dean rolled his eyes at her choice of words, but nodded nevertheless, and Jo grinned. "You've got a world to save, Romeo. See that it is done. And, who knows?" she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe, after all this is over, we can find a right place and a right time."

With that, the blonde hunter stood up from the wooden bench and walked away from him—a first. Dean watched her retreating back, trying to find the meaning behind her last words. It was true that he'd screwed up too many times to count in all his thirty years of life. But he'd always picked himself up and kept going. Jo was like him in that aspect. She fell, then stood up and moved on. Dean knew that she wouldn't always be there to wait for him. Hell, he even wondered if she ever _was_ waiting for him in the first place. He knew that, chances were, one of them wouldn't make it out alive from this ordeal.

But, as Dean slipped into his precious car, he knew that Jo's words would follow him for the rest of his days on Earth. He was a screw-up, that he knew, but now he had the determination and motivation to do the right thing and save the world for good. And, for all it was worth, now he had a damn good reason to stay alive and kick Lucifer's ass back into the depths of Hell.

He was planning to get back to Jo on that deal, if the war was won and the Apocalypse was over. It was a big if, but Dean was more than willing to move Heaven and Hell to have a chance at that—a chance in a _future_.


End file.
